


Crack in the ice

by Qpenguin98



Series: Better to love than to have and to hold [7]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesty, Clairvoyance, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Or Is It?, Past Relationship(s), Post Episode 31, Reconciliation, TAZ Amnesty, griffin can dash my dreams all he wants i will never give up on this, idk i got real emo about indrid being able to continuously see the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 11:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: Indrid Cold is not one to reminisce, but as he walks to the apartment complex that Duck lives in, he can’t help it. Had there been more time, maybe things would be different, but they are what they are.





	Crack in the ice

Indrid Cold is not one to reminisce, opting to look at the future over dwelling on memories, but as he walks to the apartment complex that Duck lives in, he can’t help it. He’s going there for a reason, one that maybe isn’t quite so pertinent in the coming of the apocalypse, but with everyone else occupied by gathering the town to fight back, he can’t find a good reason not to.

Had there been more time, maybe things would be different, but they are what they are. The past is gone, as much as he’d like to be in it now. To ignore everything coming and drown himself in memory. The future is bleak, a few small bright lights in a sea of destruction, and he wonders how big of a difference his presence here actually makes.

He makes his way up the stairs, curls around the hallways until he finds the door to Mrs. Pearson’s apartment. It’s nestled in a corner, something he’d have trouble finding if he weren’t able to look at the multiple futures ahead of him. He knocks on the door, rocking back on his heels as he waits.

“One second!” calls from behind the door and he exhales, trying his best to loosen himself up for the impending conversation. There are many ways this could go, and really he’s more worried about what the reaction to the world ending will be than the one about him showing up late to the disaster party.

The door opens to Barclay, hair pulled back, sleeves rolled up. His face falls a bit when he sees Indrid and it feels a bit like a punch in the gut. He offers a tentative smile as greeting and Barclay sighs and steps back, allowing him entry to the apartment.

That’s one check in his favor.

“Mrs. Pearson is out for a few hours,” Barclay says as he enters, slipping his shoes off and onto the mat before coming in fully. “But I can assume you already knew that.”

“Still nice to have confirmed,” he says, taking in his surroundings. There’s not much to show that Barclay’s been living here, but he never was one to impose much. “How have you been?”

“I think you know pretty well how I’ve been.” His voice is sharp, unwelcoming, and Indrid counts it as half a check removed from his success chart. “Come on, Indrid, it’s been months. You said you be gone for a little bit, not this long. And a warning for all the shit that went down would have been nice.”

“Proximity,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know until just before it all happened and by then it was too late to do anything about it.”

“Then why are you here now, if you didn’t think it was important enough to come back two months ago?”

And that. That’s a question he’s asking himself. The apocalypse, obviously, but why he didn’t come before that it difficult to answer. These are people he cares about, people he loves, that have been displaced and apprehended because he wasn’t able to prophesize what would happen to them from so far away.

“I wasn’t able to help you,” Indrid says after a minute of thinking it through. “And I think that scared me.”

“You think?”

“The world is ending in eleven hours, Barclay,” he says, turning to face him fully. “I don’t want you going into this blind.”

He’s silent, staring at him, still close to the door. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t and you know it.”

“And you’re here to stop it.”

“To help,” he says softly. “I don’t know that we can stop it.”

And that, that’s hard to hear from himself. He doesn’t know. Their odds are so rough that it’s difficult to think about. He’s had a lot of visions about this, and none of them are pretty, even the very few where they succeed. The world is about to crumble and all he can do is try to narrow down the actions to take to prevent it.

“Where are the others?”

“Out trying to recruit people to try and fight the Quell,” Indrid says, and Barclay sucks a breath in between his teeth.

“So it’s that.” His voice is flat, shoulders slumped.

“Yes,” and his vision is tunneled into Barclay. If he looks away he thinks he’ll lose whatever cool he has left. “Did you really think it would be anything else? That anything else would end the world here in Kepler?”

“To be honest I was hoping it would be something else, you know, that doesn’t tear people’s brains apart and rip up the entire world. Something that doesn’t mean Sylvain’s totally gone.”

“It’s still there, it’s just getting a little worse for wear.”

“You really think it’ll still be there if Earth gets the end of the fucking stick?”

Indrid grimaces. Nothing will be there if Earth gets the end of the stick. No where to go, no where to hide. There’s nothing he can do but hope this plan full of holes works. He steadies himself and turns to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before downing it within a few seconds.

“Why are you here, Indrid?”

Barclay’s voice isn’t so sharp now, it’s soft and gentle and Indrid almost hates him for it. He does, however give himself the whole check mark back plus another one in his favor.

“I told you already. The world is ending and—”

“No, why are you _here_?”

“Why do you think, Barclay?” He says, turning around to face him. His body feels brittle, breakable. His joints are rigid and his fingertips tingle and all the blood in his body feels distant. “The world is ending and no one knew, let alone you, so let’s think for a second about that. You wake up, you do your daily, help Mrs. Pearson with her shopping or her baking, take some time for yourself, and then nine thirty rolls around you get destroyed, alone in a negligible town, the first of billions to die. Why the fuck would I want that for you?”

He takes in a breath, thin and quiet in his throat. Something’s wrong with him and he knows what it is but he won’t acknowledge it. He’s the messenger, his job is to warn. His needs are unimportant.

“Do you need—”

“What I need is for you to think for second. Actually think. Do you think I came here to antagonize you for what’s probably your last hours on Earth? Do you think that little of me? I know I’m not the most reliable person to have around but I’m not that big of a jackass. I’m here to help, or try to help, and you knowing is helping. You should know what tonight will be like, that the odds are honestly awful and not in anyone’s favor, and that’s why I’m here. I’m here to give you your odds, to tell you what’s going to happen because if I know then you need to. I’m not having you walk into your death unknowing and alone, Barclay. I’m not letting you die alone.”

His lungs are rattling and his breaths are shuddering and everything’s gotten a bit too focused and Barclay’s come so much closer to him in the time he’s taken to speak. He’s wasting time, getting worked up like this. There’s things that need to be done, people they need to distract and get on board, and here he is wasting his time on emotions.

“Things can wait a few minutes,” Barclay says, frowning. Indrid distantly wonders if they’ve switched abilities because it’s rare that he feels this much emotion this strongly and Barclay has never been one to answer unvoiced questions, and then Barclay’s hands are on his face and his brain shuts up.

“You’re talking out loud,” Barclay says quietly. “Just… give yourself a minute, okay? Breathe. Like you said, we have eleven hours. Not like anything can speed that up.”

Indrid closes his eyes and twists his mouth up, trying his best to calm his body down and prevent himself from running his mouth any more than he already has. He isn’t supposed to be like this. He’s the seer, he sees and he tells and that is his role in everything. Warning, not worrying.

“I do have to admit,” Barclay says, and his voice only shakes a little bit. One of his thumbs rubs over his cheekbone. “You come back to die with me? Kind of romantic.”

Indrid lets out a snort of a laugh that turns into full on laughter not long after. And then before he knows it his whole body is shaking and his mouth is downturned and his eyes are damp and he lets out a sob that breaks the whole dam.

Barclay pulls him into a hug and he goes willingly, burying his face in the space between his neck and his shoulders. His arms are firm around him and he goes a little limp, heaving in air as best he can.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it comes out more like a whine. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Not now,” he tells him. “Tell me about it after, okay?”

There’s not likely to be an after, but he can give him this, the hope of reunion if they’re both still alive. It’s doubtful. It’s there but it’s doubtful. He clings to it.

They stay there for a while, Indrid’s body worming in all the places of contact between them. He shivers and wraps his arms around him in turn when he gets more control of himself.

“I think I’m still afraid,” he says, laughing a little after it.

“It’s kind of obvious.”

“Only to you,” he says, blinking his eyes a few times to clear them. “I have perfectly good composure with everyone else.”

“They just don’t know how to see through your bullshit yet.” Yet. Like there’ll be a chance of that.

Indrid pulls himself back a bit, resting his hands on each of Barclay’s shoulders. His eyes hurt and his throat still feels funny, but it doesn’t matter. This is important.

“I love you,” he says, making direct eye contact. Then he remembers the glasses and shoves them up his face a bit, resting on his forehead so that they’re still technically on, and tries again. “I love you. I need you to know that.”

“You really do think the world will end,” Barclay tries to joke, and when Indrid doesn’t react he sighs. “I know that, Indrid. I’ve always known that, even after everything that’s happened. And I love you too. A lot. Always.”

His lips quirk up. He knows, and that makes things at least a little better. He won’t die wishing he’d said it, at least.

“Never seen you this resigned about a prophecy before,” Barclay says. “Odds must be really bad.”

“You can’t see it and I’ve never been more thankful for that,” he says, replacing his glasses. “The end of the world is not pretty.”

“Never thought it would be,” he says frowning. “I don’t like you being this fatalistic.”

“If we survive you’ll understand why,” Indrid tells him, squeezing his hands on his arms for a second. “I… I am sorry, though. If things go as south as I’m making them out to go, I’m sorry I didn’t give us more time together.”

“I told you to save it for after,” Barclay said. “We can deal with our messy relationship after we win.”

“This is important,” Indrid says. “I’ve been thinking about it since I saw it all for the first time, and I really am sorry. I know the years apart was both of us and I can only take half of that blame, but these past months I could’ve been here. I was scared and it was stupid and I’m sorry. I wanted to think and it could have cost us so much time.”

“I don’t care,” Barclay says firmly. “I really don’t. It doesn’t matter in the big picture, which is what you really have to think of right now. Stop sweating the small stuff because it doesn’t matter. If we live then you have got to stay here for a little bit and make good on all this stuff you’re saying, but right now you’re here, and if all we’ve got is this last ten or so hours then you made it, and that’s what counts.”

“Look at you,” Indrid says fondly. The check score is even at this point. “Better advice on how to handle the future than me.”

“You’ve given me a lot of content to practice on,” Barclay says easily. “Now what do you need to do?”

“Everyone should have convinced who they needed to to round up to town, so they’ll be heading back to the Cryptonomica soon. If you’d like to join us, I’m sure we’ll find some way to use your help.”

“Let me leave Mrs. Pearson a note, and I’d be glad to.”

They pull apart and Barclay finds a pan and paper, scribbling out a brief not explaining why he’s gone for his new housemate, and Indrid watches him fondly from the counter. He isn’t ready to lose this, he realizes fully for the first time. He is going to make damn sure that he doesn’t lose this.

“Come on,” Indrid says, holding out a hand. Barclay smiles before taking it. “Let’s go save the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> i finally made myself listen to the past two episodes and god scream of delight i made when indrid showed up was very loud and disrupted my cats quite a bit  
> i am so glad my boy is here for the end, and griffin may have smashed my dreams of indrid being there in the early to middle days of the pine guard, but this now au will live on my heart forever


End file.
